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there are no new banana mantras to my street-crossings 

no

my sure-fire detective skills are dead-on 

my thin-sheet visibility

like tracing paper

draws delirious welcomes 

i learn how to fear the stares

how to feel invisible

without an umbrella 

i guess at corners

i sit on cobblestone’d avenues

i daydream with the pigeons 

i read dangerous words and watch

unheard of home movies 

that reminded me 

what it is

to be a stranger